


Life is Tough as a Gangster Dating Service

by Nova_Spark (Harra286)



Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, I hate it, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Multi, god editing is balls, its GTA we know how it is, not gonna be an issue in the beginning but it'll get there, please let me know throughout if there's other things I should tag, some dodgy shit goes down, this has been up before I'm just hecka editing it?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23778229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harra286/pseuds/Nova_Spark
Summary: Being the living, breathing, gangster version of Tinder isn't exactly the easiest job in the world, but Mads Grey somehow manages to make it work... until a certain Trevor Philips decides to get involved.a.k.a  my GTA O.C dicking around in Los Santos
Relationships: Trevor Philips/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 17





	1. First Date.

Mads drummed her fingers on the table and she took another swig of her beer. The contact was late - and considering the shithole she’d agreed to meet them in - most likely dead in a ditch somewhere. She’d wait another ten minutes, she decided. After that, it didn’t matter who they were or how much product they were selling. Mads had flown in from Liberty City the day before - her client wanted partners that weren't tied to their messy gang wars - and yet her supposed hosts hadn't even bothered to check if she'd arrived in the county. It was a point of pride that whatever else she was, at least she was _professional -_ clearly unlike the other party. The risk factor was making her skin tingle and it only got worse as the sun dipped lower beneath the horizon. A feeling settled in her gut situated somewhere between caution and paranoia. The looks she was getting from the other punters didn’t help. She was well aware what happened to a woman by herself in a place like Sandy Shores, which was why she’d dressed down. A tan Stetson hid her distinctive red hair, her loose shirt, dark combats and boots meant to match with local wear. She'd strapped her pistol to her hip in plain view. Despite this, certain drunk patrons were beginning to see past the warning. Maddie pulled her Stetson lower over her face to cover her green-grey eyes and downed the last of her drink.

She had been trying her best to drown the developing migraine in alcohol but it wasn’t working. She wondered if her impatience was due to jet lag, the heat, or just utter disdain for the entire bullshit county. It was as fun a thing to muse as any. She'd settled on blaming all three when a short, raggedy man burst through the entrance of the Yellow Jack Inn and made a beeline for her table.  
“You must be Ms. Grey,” He looked almost paler than her, if that were possible, as he sank into the booth opposite her.  
“Nobody calls me that, it's Mads. You Jakowski?”  
“Call me Ron.” He gave a curt nod before ordering himself a drink.  
“You’re late, I was considering calling this whole thing off.”  
“Oh! Oh no, no, no you can’t do that!”  
“I don’t work with people that can’t deliver, _Ron_ . My clients trust me to find good quality partnerships. You kept me waiting for thirty five minutes!”  
“We would have been here on time but, unfortunately, as the result of some total bullsh- ah, I mean unforeseen circumstances Trevor - sorry, our founder the great Mr. Trevor Philips - has had to go take care of some business in the city." He was definitely less eloquent face to face than he was over a computer screen. The difference was underwhelming to say the least.

He continued to ramble out apologies when a loud trill from his pocket cut him off. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and his beady eyes widened.  
“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” Ron scrambled to his feet to put some distance between the two of them before answering.  
“Speak of the Devil and he shall appear huh?” Mads thought Ron was out of earshot, but the way the man flinched at her words told her otherwise. She scanned the bar again to find that nobody met her eyes. Strange, considering these same people had been preying on her minutes before. Even the fact that the bar was emptier couldn’t account for such an acute difference. _The name Trevor Philips carries weight in these parts_ , Mads concluded. It made no difference, she'd seen enough. The man hadn’t even bothered to come to the meet himself. Instead he sent some terrified lackey - and she wasn’t about to stake her reputation on the shrivelled sack of shit she’d just met. Ron was at the bar, facing away from the exit - perfect. She took the chance to slip out quietly.

“Yeah, I did but it’s going to take a while… No, I haven’t- I’m in the meet… No, no I’m sure I told you about it…! No I can show her around myself, you don’t need to-” snippets of Ron’s conversation reached her before the door swung closed. Her instincts had turned out to be correct; Jakowski’s boss didn’t think her business was important enough to remember. _Well at least I found out now_ , Mads thought, _who knows what kind of mess I'd have to clean up if I'd made the deal?_. She scanned the parking lot for a car to jack and immediately headed for the Gauntlet, ignoring sounds of protest emanating from the inn doors as she hot-wired it.

“Mads! Ms Grey! _Wait_!”

She continued to reverse out of the parking space before having to brake hard as Ron ran out to stand at the back of her car.  
“Hey! You crazy fuck, are you trying to get yourself killed?”  
“Don’t leave yet! We need to reach a deal!”  
“Fuck…” She rolled her window down and waited for Ron to scrabble his way around to the driver’s side.  
“Please, give us a chance. Hear us out and we can prove that this deal will be beneficial to your clients.”  
“Why are you trying so hard? Your boss doesn’t even know you’re meeting me. Just pretend this never happened.”  
“Wait, it’s a misunderstanding… Trevor’s had a real rough couple of days, owing to his circumstances like I said. There is no way that if things were normal he’d have forgot you or your business Mads… so maybe we could come to an understanding ourselves ?”  
“I have a commitment to fill and I don’t have time to put aside every time someone has a fucking personal crisis. Maybe if I’m in a bind again I can work something out with your outfit but as it is I’m sorry but we are done.”

The man fidgeted under Maddie’s intense gaze, but when she rolled up her window back up he threw his left hand into it causing a sickening crunch as the glass hit the top of the frame.  
“Jesus fucking Christ! I could’ve cut your goddamn hand off!”  
“No, please- wait, look-” he wheezed, clutching his mangled hand. “Okay, between us the Boss is a bit… unpredictable at sales pitches, but please. Please. He said he’s coming up tonight… Just meet him. I’m begging you.”  
“Fine, fine.” She sighed. “But not tonight, it’s too late. If your boss is interested in my services, have him come meet me out where I’m staying in Paleto Bay. I’ll be sticking around in Los Santos for another ten days to have discussions with the other interested parties . If he can convince me, we’ll do business - but it’s first come first served and if I land the other partners then I’m leaving early.”  
“Thanks, Mads! We won’t let you down! You’ll see, Trevor Philips Enterprises will be the right-”

  
Maddie drove out of the parking lot without so much as a blink. What a shitshow. The guy was fucking desperate, and being more afraid of his boss than of dying? The definition of bad news. Either way, Mads wasn’t dumb enough to wait around for this apparently terrifying fucker to turn up to meet her. She floored the accelerator as she hit the highway, time being of the essence. If she worked her ass off she could get the contacts she needed in five days - a week maximum. Once she was certain the contract and product were secure she would take the first plane back to Liberty City. God, she hated whichever prick that had convinced her branching out her contact network was a good idea. She was happy with what she already had going as a respected fixer in L.C's two-bit gangster industry. Sometimes, when she was feeling daring, she'd dip her toe in the three-bit gangster arena. That was more than enough excitement; she was going back home as soon as possible. Just this deal - then she’d be gone, Mads resolved. With any luck, after the next few days, she would forget she ever set foot anywhere in Los Santos or came across the name Trevor Philips.


	2. Fair Madonna

Mads set to work quickly and with efficiency. Her first option was out immediately; owing to their base of operations having mysteriously burned down. No matter, having only one potential deal in place was an amateur mistake. Neither was she distressed by the fact the Sandy Shores meet hadn’t panned out. There was no deal made but, in exchange, word had spread that a big buyer was in town. Anyone worth their paycheck would be falling over themselves to try and speak to her. Within two days the rumours paid off in the form of an invite to brunch with some Mexican Cartel leader. He’d been adamant she come to meet him in the city - booking a table at the finest restaurant in downtown Los Santos. She wasn’t against the meet so to speak, but his pushiness was something she took specific note of. Contacts with that controlling kind of nature could end up being… irksome to work with, to say the least.

She pulled up outside the restaurant and a burly bodyguard escorted her to the private upstairs area. The nod between said bodyguard and the waitress on her way down the stairs was subtle but was not missed. _Madrazo must own this place,_ Mads concluded. It made sense of course, a massive mafia boss wasn’t going to take the chance of meeting a stranger in a neutral space. Didn't mean she had to like it, though. With her initial reservations, being alone in the gangster's den was not good. Her hands gravitated closer to her weapons. At the top, Mads noted the floor was empty save for the balcony space where a table had been set up. Beside it was an older man in a slick Perseus suit and an armful of yellow poppies.  
“Mads, darling! I was waiting for you!” he handed her the flowers and grasped her in a bear hug, making kisses at her cheeks. Mads suppressed a grimace and reciprocated in kind.  
“Ray! Bring my guest some of your best, _rapido_!” They sat, and Madrazo barked the commands out to waitstaff that went scurrying off.  
“I hope you don’t mind that I ordered for us.”  
“Not at all, Mr. Madrazo.”  
“Oh no, for you my friend? I am Martin.” He lifted her hand from the table to kiss the back of it.

Dinner consisted mostly of polite back and forth about Mads’s journey. Madrazo made many, many offers to make her stay more comfortable - all of which she politely declined. Progress was painfully slow but she recognised the necessity of it; she had to determine the worthiness of the all contacts she made, and they had to evaluate her as well. Madrazo’s acceptance that hers was a legitimate business enquiry was signalled by his request for the dessert menu. Mads supposed, if he’d decided she was some sort of spy, she’d be eating a bullet served through the brain by the guard downstairs instead of high end gelato. They finished up in the restaurant swiftly and Madrazo insisted on whisking her away to the best spots in town. The day was spent with a lot of the same brand Madrazo ‘posture-flirting’, but Mads didn’t particularly mind. She found a lot of men she worked with acted similar on finding out she wasn’t the surly man she came across as through filter of a screen, but a young woman with no attachments. It was early evening when Madrazo directed his chauffeur to drive him and Mads to a ranch on the outskirts of Los Santos. He led her past the large white fountain and up the steps into his home and dismissed the guards in the entryway - a good sign, if there was any. Madrazo spoke a few quick words to a nearby maid before leading Mads through the entrance way into a luxurious drawing room. They took a seat in plush velvety chairs around the thick glass coffee table.

It was early evening when Madrazo directed his chauffeur to drive him and Mads out of Los Santos. He led her into his home and dismissed the guards in the entryway - a good sign if anything. A few quick words to a nearby maid and he was leading Mads through the entranceway into a luxurious drawing-room. They took a seat in plush velvety chairs around the thick glass coffee table.  
“So, darling, let us talk money,”  
“If you’d like. I assume you know how I operate?”  
“Of course my dear. Your associates, they call you, they say ‘Mads? Oh Mads please, call your crazy friends to help me do some illegal shit’ and you say ‘ _No problemo ese_ , I know the perfect guy, I'll hook you up.’”  
“That’s… not exactly how I'd describe fixing, but you've got the gist of it. My client is requesting thirty keys of product twice a month, provided with your own transport. They’ll inspect it on arrival in Liberty City and if all is well you’ll receive payment."  
"And what about my-"

The conversation paused as a woman in a violent pink tracksuit shuffled her way through the door. She was an elderly lady with a shock of red hair and a thick black rosary around her neck. She carried a round silver tray filled with high-quality coffees, biscuits, and cakes.  
“My wife, Patricia.” Madrazo supplied. Mads tried to suppress the awkwardness she felt creeping in her skin. A tense deal with a mob boss and Mads was in her element, but domesticity was not covered by her wealth of experience. She was unsure of how to conduct herself in the face of it. Madrazo's wife set the tray down on the table and Madrazo tried to shepherd her out of the room. The woman ignored him, poured out the coffee, and set a few treats in a delicate plate to offer to Mads.  
“Oh, for me! Thank you…” Mads managed to sputter out. Madrazo’s wife seemed pleased at Mads’s attempt to engage her and split into a big smile.  
“You’re welcome,” She replied. The conversation became heated, leading Madrazo to physically usher the woman out. He grumbled out curses in Spanish but Mads could’ve sworn she heard ‘meddling’ and ‘busybody’ in there as well.

“Where were we - oh yes, talking about you versus me. You, a facilitator for the mobsters and the criminals. Me? I’m a businessman. Why do I need your services?”  
“Really, Madrazo?” Mads raised a brow over the plate as she chose a small cream-filled pastry and popped it in her mouth. The man shrugged at her and she sighed.  
“Well. For one, you spent a fuck tonne of money on me today. You telling me you did that without expecting a return?”  
“No, no. You misunderstand. I want to reach an agreement where you make me a hell of a lot of money - but I’m smart about my business, like you. See I had my guys look you up, Ms. Mads Grey. You know what they found? You have all these ‘contacts’, but none of them can fucking touch you. They don’t know your work, your house, your loved ones.” He gestured to their surroundings in such an exaggerated fashion it was almost comical. “Even today I had to get a hold of you through third parties. If I’m gonna put my trust in you I’m gonna need a little bit more… assurance. You gotta be concrete, not a ghost in the wind.”

Mads didn’t like where this was going. “And what could I do to ensure I’d be more ‘concrete’ for you?”  
“I want your address, your phone number, your email, your fucking Lifeinvader, the works. I want schedules, when you’re working, and who you know in Los Santos. I want a list of all the people you give my details to.” What a shitty fucking freak. He could try to disguise it however he wanted, but Mads was clear on what it was he was trying to get over her - control. Madrazo had seemed like a clown, but in truth, Mads was the one ensnared. Mads had visited his fronts all day, she was in his home, she'd met his _wife -_ all spun to place a burden of information that Mads would have to reciprocate. How could she refuse him after he had so graciously trusted her, a complete stranger, with such intimate details of his life? She cursed her naivety. Even in a foreign arena, she should have known better than to underestimate someone who rubbed shoulders with Cartel. Thankfully, the man seemed vainer than a fucking cockatiel. Now, it was about if she was smooth enough to find a way to work him over.

“Come now Martin, don’t you think that’s a little unreasonable? " She tried, "My way of work may be a little unorthodox, but it's for my own safety. You wouldn’t ask a young, vulnerable woman to endanger herself to make you feel a little bit of comfort, right? That’s not the sort of man you are.”  
“Don’t take me for a fool _bella_. You don't know what sort of man I am. I know what you trying to pull, calling me Martin, that tone-”

He leaned forward to grasp her chin and force her to look at him. He waited, expectant, but Mads didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, she repositioned in her chair to whip the base of her palm as hard as possible into Madrazo’s bicep. Madrazo let out a cry of surprise as his fingers reflexively relaxed, and he clutched his spasming muscle. A small group of his guards burst into the room in response to his outburst but he barked at them to leave.  
“Nothing to see, boys. I was acquainting Mr. Madrazo with the rules about my personal space.” The guards looked from Mads to Madrazo, who gave them a terse nod of confirmation.  
“I.. apologise… for my forwardness,” He wheezed, sinking into his chair once more.  
“Not a problem,” Mads responded smoothly. She stifled a smirk as she watched him flexing his fingers, feeling returned to his arm. So the man wasn’t going to fall for the innocent damsel in distress act. A misstep on her part, considering she had spent most of the day trying to convince him of her competence. It was time to try a different tack - one especially geared to someone paranoid enough to do his homework on her.

“Do you know why my services are sought after over anyone else's in Liberty City, Madrazo? You've researched it, you should know that criminals fall over themselves for a chance to work for me. Why is that? Should I tell you?"  
"Enlighten me, darling." He scowled, but the recognition she read in his face told her that he had wondered this very question.  
"My speciality isn't in putting together a deal, it's seeing it through. What that means is, when I set something up, I am liable if anyone shits the bed. I'll agree to the terms you've set out, but in exchange, I am terminating that service for you. If there is a fuck up on your end I will not step in for you. I will not use my connections to help you fix it, and I definitely will not smooth things over so you can keep doing business with my client. Can you afford to lose that privilege? In a deal as big as this?”

“No, I suppose I can’t.” He took a sip of his coffee. _Almost there_ , Mads thought, _now I just have to sweeten the deal in the right way_.  
“I'm here to make both sides happy, Madrazo. Happy and rich. If you back off with the surveillance schtick I will give you first pick on any business presented to me while I'm in Los Santos. It’s something I’d do for you only, and since you’ve shown me such hospitality, I’ll throw in a five percent discount on my cut of the take from this deal.”   
He cocked his head as he considered for a moment before nodding. "Deal."

“I’m glad we came to an agreement. Hand me your phone, please.” Mads opened a new message and punched her number in as the recipient. She texted herself ‘Madrazo’, before deleting the message from Madrazo’s phone in such a way that any tech geeks he hired wouldn’t be able to recover it, a lesson learned from experience. She couldn’t help the flash of smugness in her tone at her victory. "I expect there will be details to iron out, I'll be here for the next few days should you have questions. After that you'll be speaking directly to each other - I will only factor in if there's a problem.”  
“That’s still not concrete. What happens if I need to talk to you?”  
“Oh, yes of course. Ring this number. An operator will make sure your message gets to me. If it’s an emergency use the code word ‘Madonna’, they’ll know what to do.” She grabbed a black marker that was laying under the table and scribbled out her hotline number on the tray, ignoring Madrazo's grimace. The tray must’ve been expensive. Instead, he insisted on bringing out some of his finest wine to congratulate them both on a job well done.

Mads left Madrazo’s feeling accomplished - she’d sealed the deal within days of touching down in this piece-of-shit county. Madrazo’s cartel was a big enough racket to produce the product she needed without her having to get in touch with anyone else. The only thing left to do was confirm everything and she’d buy the first ticket out. Madrazo’s men had been kind enough to drive her stolen Gauntlet to the ranch so she wasn’t deprived of transport and she drove back to Paleto Bay buzzing from a job well done. She was finally going back to her city. Los Santos felt so alien - it was too warm; it made everyone get hot-headed and loose tempered. She arrived at her place after dark and in the pouring rain. She never understood why Paleto Bay got more rain than the entire county. No matter what the weather was like elsewhere it was always soggy and miserable there. Not that she was complaining, it almost felt like home.

Mads parked in the driveway and immediately peeled off the wet clothes and had a quick rinse in the shower. The hot water loosened her up and made her feel infinitely less oily after having Madrazo all over her all day. She’d been pleasantly surprised to find the fridge stocked when she’d arrived - she'd expected to have to subsist off a random assortment of jerky and cheap beers. Considering her success, Mads had decided to treat herself. She ducked into the local discount store and made a beeline for the frozen section to look over their selection of ice cream. She was browsing the disgraceful lack of good quality vanilla when the door to the store jingled.

“Get in there,” A gruff voice spat, followed by a plaintive whimper and the sound of someone stumbling into, presumably, the front display.  
“Wh-why am I here boss?” The second person’s voice caused Mads to pause. She’d heard this snivelling, cowering tone before.  
“Because, Ronald, I can’t fucking trust you not to fuck me when my back is turned, you _fucking_ turd!”  
“But I- I fixed it Trev! She promised that if you spoke to her she’d give us the deal!”  
“That my friend is the only reason why I haven’t ripped your fucking arms off and _fucked_ you with them!” Holy mother of shitballs. Of all the people it could’ve been, Ron fucking Jakowski, accompanied by Trevor McShag-You-With-Your-Own-Arms Philips. Annoyance flared in her gut and part of her wanted to run up and squeeze Jakowski’s mangled fingers until he cried. Mads resisted the urge; they hadn’t seen her yet and it would be an act of incredible fucking stupidity. _Why did they have to turn up right here, right now?_ She lamented. The aisles hid her from their line of sight, the refrigerated section being at the back of the store, but the pair were too close to the entrance for her to leave without being seen. The front foyer area was open plan and the racks of clothing were too short to hide her from them. The voices got closer and Mads moved to the most rightward aisle and dipped into it. She had done so in the nick of time; she peeked out and spotted the pair scanning canned beers. Jakowski was hovering between keeping close to Trevor and trying to keep out of range of a punch, the man himself hunched down trying to root out cans at the back of the fridge

It seemed like a good enough time as any to make a hasty exit. Mads set herself the fastest pace she could while still calling it a walk and dodged towards the door. The clerk eyeballed her, but on seeing she hadn’t taken anything - and it would have been obvious in her tank and sweats - continued reading his paper. She winced as the bell above the door announced her exit, but didn’t let it change her speed and only considered running when she was sure she’d cleared visual range of the store windows. She collapsed behind the front door when she made it back to the house and took a few moments to breathe deeply. The lesson here was clear: don’t celebrate a job well done until it’s actually fucking done. Even so, she couldn’t help thinking sometimes the universe was a real fucking bitch. When the adrenaline had calmed enough that her legs didn’t feel like jelly she made her way upstairs and flopped onto the bed. _I could stay in a motel somewhere in Los Santos while I finish up_ , she considered. She couldn’t go home yet, if the client wasn't happy with the match she needed time to scout out a few others, but it wouldn’t hurt to take precautions. At the very least she was safe for the night, she thought.

She was dozing when the smell of coffee hit her.

Her eyes peeled open and she checked the bedside table. Half seven in the morning. She groaned, turning over to settle and sleep for another few hours when realisation set in. Someone was downstairs making coffee. Suddenly, she wasn’t sleepy any more. She wrapped her hand around her pistol and made her way downstairs towards the kitchen. The intruder was humming a theme tune of some cartoon show - by the pitch, it was a man. Mads raised her pistol and marched straight into the kitchen but her breath hitched when she clapped eyes on him. Trevor had discarded the grimy t-shirt and even nastier sweatpants he’d been wearing the night before, throwing them haphazardly on the living room floor, and was rummaging through the kitchen cupboards in his tightey-whiteys.

“Mornin’ sugar. Want some coffee?”


	3. Real Devils Wear Versace

Mads leaned against her car, eyes fixed on Los Santos International Arrivals. She scanned flow of people, from the business-like to the fucking weird, with mild interest. She could’ve sworn there was even a guy in clown paint staring right at her from the café. Of course, there was always one total fruitcake near her no matter where in Los Santos she went. She ground her boots into the pavement and anchored herself to the car with her crossed arms. She’d surprised herself at how desperately she wanted to go home. How could she have known she'd be pining for the monotonous grey streets filled with various calibre of gangster? In Liberty City, she was clear on where she stood and, more importantly, knew how to bend the rules to get what she wanted. Sure it was a complete shithole, but it was her shithole - the place that she knew better than she knew herself. It made no difference though, so she quashed the feeling as much as she could manage. No matter how much she wanted to run to Departures and get on the first fucking flight out, she knew she had to stay. She had business to conclude and she wasn’t about to leave it half-finished. Besides, even if she did leave, chances were a half-bald bat shit geezer would be in the first plane out after her.

Not a pleasant thought.

A man making a beeline for her out of arrivals snapped her out of her thoughts and into focus. He was of East Asian descent, wearing impeccable formalwear, carrying a weighty briefcase. Mads took an instant dislike to him. She knew his type too well, the silver-tongued, squeaky clean, impossibly polite freaks. To the untrained, they looked out of place in a gangbanger’s employ, when in fact they were the kind that revelled in its dirty work the most.  
“Ms Grey?”  
“Yes.”  
"I am Chen. Mr. Lee sends his regards. He was… disappointed that he could not convey them in person.”  
“As was I,” She replied smoothly. “Unfortunately I contracted other business which has delayed my return.”  
“An eventuality I suppose we should have accounted for, considering your talents. There is a reason Mr. Lee would be so keen to have an exclusive contract with you.”  
“If Mr. Lee continues to flatter me this way I may have no choice but to consider it.” Pleasantries aside, Mads led the man into the passenger seat of the car. She’d disposed of the Gauntlet in favour of a clean vehicle; choosing a less conspicuous Sabre in impound. Her guest settled in and she drove them via the back streets in an attempt to avoid the mess of Los Santos freeways.

They made polite conversation as Mads parked in the lot for Vespucci Beach. Chen masked his surprise at her chosen location but years of staring down mob bosses allowed her to pick up the veneer of confusion in his features. To be fair, in his place she would probably have felt the same. When she touched down she had decided to take the scenic route up to Paleto Bay. She definitely hadn’t gotten lost. She was far too professional for such a thing. Either way, the move had ended up working in her favour. She disrupted a robbery along the pier and, in doing so, gained access to a place where she could conduct business with discretion. Mads had to admit she was fond of it - in her eyes, the place was the first connection she made in Los Santos.  
“Mads! Good to see you!” The owner came round from the counter to shake her hand.  
“Is the roof ready, Jared?”  
“Of course, anything for my favourite person!”  
“I thought you might appreciate the venue,” She watched as understanding crept into his features.  
“Open, but walled high enough to be safe from snipers. Plenty of civilians around to provide the illusion of safety versus the fact the owner is loyal enough to back you up if things go south.”

She gestured for him to sit at the table Jared had set up for them. He set his briefcase on the table and opened it up to reveal a laptop secured in the lid, which Chen removed. He turned it on and, after a few moments of swift typing, turned it so the screen was visible to them both.  
“Your advance payment, as agreed.” Mads took ahold of the laptop and skimmed the page. It was a statement of payment - from one of the Triad shells to Maddox Greysmark - the fake name on some of her Los Santos paperwork. It seemed like everything had gone well with the laundering process. If the information on the screen was trustworthy, Mads was fifteen thousand dollars richer. She turned the laptop so that Chen couldn’t overlook her checks and precautions.  
“Everything seems to be in order.” She said, satisfied, and returned the laptop to him.  
“Of course. The contact?”  
“The Madrazo Cartel. I’ve arranged bi-monthly transports of the product via his own private cargo plane. It's expected you will pay when the goods land. You will provide your own runners from the chosen drop point. The finer details can be confirmed with Martin Madrazo - he is the first of the numbers I’m giving you. He’s arranging the first landing to be seventeen days from now.” She handed Chen a small envelope. “That should suffice until Mr. Lee takes care of your problem with the usual suppliers.”  
“You-” The mask seemed to slip as a dark look flashed over Chen’s face. “How is it that you know about our little issue?”

Shit. Technically, she wasn't supposed to know there’d been a firefight at one of the Triad production factories. They needed her to outsource their drugs because they still hadn't got the place back up and running. Her situation had become dangerous - because of course it had. _When does anything in this bullshit county ever go right?_ she cursed. If her explanation wasn’t good enough the man across from her had no qualms about putting a bullet in her head.  
“Its’ my business to know these things, is it not?” She tried to keep her tone light but tapped the signal for Jared to standby with her foot. “It helps me better anticipate the needs of my clients, after all.”  
“And are you always so brazen when you talk about your clients' needs?”  
“Absolutely not Mr. Chen. My clients trust me to keep the strictest confidence. I assumed you knew of this matter and regret not confirming with you before speaking of it.”  
“You would do well to remember to think before you speak Ms Grey. Who knows if the next time you will have the chance to regret?”  
“Of course, please express my apologies to Mr. Lee... and as a token of goodwill please, take this.” She scribbled the address of one of her Liberty operation centres on a slip of paper. “I will make sure my people are available to handle your complaint.”  
"Your indiscretion aside it was pleasure doing business, as always. When can we expect you back from Los Santos?” Her concession pacified him and he slipped back into a blank mask of politeness.  
“I’m still deliberating on that matter, but not to worry. Whatever my circumstances, I can promise that you and your operation is being taken care of.”  
“I apologise if I was prying into your business.” He said with a cough.  
“Not at all.” Chen made a hasty exit after that to relay the information to his employer.

Mads used the opportunity to relax a little on the beach. Flirting with death was not something she enjoyed but they were part and parcel of the job. It was only fair she gets to offset those experiences by doing things she did like. She slipped out of her shoes and slacks opting to keep her shirt on but to open the buttons and tie it at her midriff. She made straight for the water; it reached her waist where she chose to sit cross-legged. The sensation of the currents on her back was pleasant. It was as if the waves lifted the tension out her body and dragged it away from her to sea. There was something about Los Santos - everything was a struggle, even with all her talents. She was too wound up, stretched in too many different directions. It was making her weak. Her dulled instincts were obvious in the circus act that played out Paleto. She grimaced a little as she remembered the event.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” She’d said, the gun in her hand poised for a headshot.  
“Fuck, you invited us. Mads, right?” Trevor gave up on the cupboards and started rummaging through the fridge instead. “You almost got away from me y’know, last night I mean. Word of advice - a life lesson if you will, seeing as you seem greener than a virgin giving her first fucking blowjob - you wanna escape somebody? Just fucking go. No time for an overnight stay, that was fucking stupid of you if you ask me.”

She had to give him that.

She took a moment to actually look at the man. He was probably somewhere in his early forties, which put him at least a good decade ahead of her. He didn’t look bad for it - though it was obvious he didn’t take particular care of himself he was of solid build and well-toned. He was tall, cleanly shaven with wild hair that was balding. She noted a couple of tattoos here and there, the most prominent a memorial for a guy called Michael on his upper arm. His face and hands sported an assortment of cuts and bruises, his arms covered in telltale needle marks.  
“Ho sweetheart please, I’m not a piece of meat. Quit staring, I’m getting a semi.”  
“So… you’re the infamous Trevor Philips,” Mads lowered the gun and continued with her inspection.  
“In the flesh,” he chuckled. “RON! COME MAKE ME A SANDWICH!!”

Mads held in her anger as a familiar stooping weaselly piece of shit brushed past her and into the kitchen.   
Trevor stepped out from behind the breakfast bar and approached her with his arms wide. “So, sweet cheeks, let's talk about us.”  
“There isn’t an us.” She said flatly.  
“Come on now, don’t play hard to get. I see how you’re looking at me. You want me, and me, well…” He gestured to his crotch with both hands showing Mads he hadn’t been joking about the hard-on. “So lets stop beating around the bush and get to fucking, y’know what I’m saying?”  
“Let me stop you right there. I know you’re expecting me to sell your product but Jakowski lied. I didn’t promise you anything. It was first come first served, and I’ve already given it to someone else. So, we aren’t gonna be getting into bed together - in any sense of the phrase.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth Jakowski’s head snapped from her to Trevor in absolute horror.  
“C’mere you fucking asswipe!” Trevor growled at him. She couldn't say she was sorry for how Trevor made for his subordinate with an expression of blatant fury. _Serves him right, nasty little shit_ , she thought. Jakowski was way ahead of him and had already made a break for the back door, managing to dodge Trevor’s grasping hands. Trevor ran out of the house in pursuit and cars honked as the pair played chase through the roads. She’d managed to make a cup of coffee and was buttering toast at the breakfast bar when Trevor slunk back in muttering all manner of dark curses.  
“This better be the best fucking sandwich I’ve ever fucking eaten or else I swear to God-” he tore a chunk out of it and chewed miserably. Mads grabbed the other half and took a small bite before returning it; sliced turkey, lettuce, tomato, a bit of mustard. Not half bad. They sat next to each other for a few moments, silent as they ate breakfast. _It’s awkward_ , Mads thought, _but at least he isn’t mad at me_.

Mads had enough of the weird once she’d polished off her food and set both her and Trevor’s dishes in the sink. She headed upstairs to bring him something fresh to wear - his sweatpants needed burning, and she'd been left enough clothes to spare. He was in the living room watching cartoons when she set the clothes on the arm of the sofa next to him.  
“Well it was nice to meet you, Mr. Philips, I’m sorry that the trip was such a waste of your time.” She said in her most amiable business tone.  
“The fuck are you talking about?”  
“...Excuse me?”  
“What waste of time? You’re getting me a deal.”  
“But Mr. Philips-”  
“But what? And stop calling me Mr. Philips it makes my fucking skin crawl, the name’s Trevor.”  
“Well, _Trevor_ , like I explained the offer I came for has concluded, so-”  
“So? Get me another one.”

Mads stared at the man dumbfounded as he turned off the TV to give her his full attention.  
“What? You’re a fucking matchmaker, aren’t you? Matchmake me.”  
“... It isn’t exactly that simple.”  
“And why the fuck not?” Trevor got out of his chair and loomed towards her. “You come up to Los Santos like you’re hot shit, make me run after you like a fucking twat for _two whole days_ and think you can refuse when I ask for a deal? You _owe_ me, sugartits.”  
“I don’t owe you shit you nasty, bald-as-fuck, wrinkled _dick_ ,” Mads hissed. “You think I’d fix for an outfit that can’t even meet me on time in their own backyard? I'm not interested in spending the rest of my fucking time here cleaning after your shit! I only agreed to hear you out because I didn’t want to pull bits of Jakowski out of my fucking wheels!”  
“Ohoho feisty, I like that! Is it your Irish blood?” He flashed her a wolfish grin before continuing. “At least Ronnie managed to be good for something. Let’s get something straight though, I am not bald. I’ve had a lot of stress and trauma in my life and it’s caused some of my hair to-”  
“Fuck off. No, seriously. Get the fuck out of my house.”  
“Sorry little lady, I’m not leaving until I get what I-” 

His rant was stopped short by an insistent trilling from the pocket of his sweats. He cursed and pulled out a banged up mobile, only to curse even more when he saw the caller.  
“The fuck is it Wade? I’m busy-” He paused, eyes wide. “For real? You better not be fucking with me- alright, I’m coming.” He spun around to Mads coming right up close into her personal space.  
“You.” He enunciated the word with a stab of his finger. “Don’t you go anywhere. We’re not done.” He grabbed the clothes she laid out, somehow managing to get into them while walking, and burst out the front door. She spied him getting into a red off-road truck and drove off, hitting a lamppost on his way. It had been a week since and he hadn’t tried to contact her once, which suited her just fine.

She stood up from her spot in the ocean washed the sand off her legs, ignoring the way other beachgoers were staring. So what if her white shirt looked see-through when wet and everyone could see her underwear? The way some of these guys were looking at her you’d think they’d never seen a lady's bra and pants before, on the fucking beach no less. Some were staring at the tattoo above her left hip bone, a broken cartwheel covered around the outside with spikes. At least, she told herself that was what the eyes on her were looking at. A thought swam up in her mind about how easily those popping eyes could be scooped out, but she dismissed it. Instead, she grabbed a beer and headed back to the car. Just as well, it was mid-afternoon and she wanted to get back up to Paleto Bay before dusk set in.

She had the place for a month, which was plenty of time to fob off that psycho Trevor Philips. She didn’t give a shit what he wanted, she had stayed to ensure her business went smoothly and it had. Now that the handoff had completed she could go home whenever she liked. _That settles it_ , Mads thought, _I'm gonna pack up my shit and go home_. The car seat was warm against her cooled thighs and she shivered as she settled into it. The last rays of sunlight streaked through the windscreen, warm and comforting. She downed her beer in two or three massive gulps, throwing it at the trash can by the driver's side window. It landed on the lid with a thunk - close enough, she thought. No one could ever accuse her of being a litterer. The engine sputtered into life and she considered whether to find a proper car if she ever came back to Los Santos. For the time being, she drove back in the crappy motor. By the time she arrived, ocean water had all but dried leaving salt and grime crackling all over her skin.

Mads noticed the red LED blinking at her from the living room as soon as she came through the door. Odd, she didn’t remember giving the number out to many people. Bath first though, she decided. She took her time to soak, scrubbing the ocean water out of her hair and the general Los Santos muck out of her pores. She considered heading straight to bed when the light resurfaced in her thoughts. It was bothering her, the few people she’d trusted with her details in L.S. weren’t the type to call for frivolous reasons. So, she padded downstairs towards it and clicked the voicemail button.

“ _Maddie_ _, it’s Frankie, Ma gave me your number. I don’t know how to say this to you so I’m just gonna out with it - the bikers came down this way and they trashed yer house. Nothing I could do. I don’t think it's safe for you to come back, they’re getting even more rowdy than before. Some other guy was trying to get a hold o’ you, some nutjob with the Italians. Hall, somethin’ like that? I don’t know if he’s one of your contacts or what, wise guy was trying to intimidate the whole street. I had to threaten to arrest him. I don’t think this guy knows you’re out of the city. Are you in some kind of trouble? Do you need help? As much as I hate to say it if you need someone to look out for you call Packie. He’s passing through your way any day now. Stay safe, call me when you can let me know what the fuck is going on_.”

  
Mads played the message again, and a third time for good measure. When it finally sank in she stumbled back, landing on the floor. Her heart jumped violently into her throat and she very much felt like she needed to throw it up. Eyes were on her roaming her body through her clothes as if they were x-ray vision. She wasn’t safe - his name was said and so his presence had been summoned to haunt her. _Speak of the Devil and he shall appear, huh?_ Her own words thrown back at her. She had to get away - away from the offending device that had dared to bring that presence into being, away from the eyes only she could feel watching her. She scrambled into the corridor and up the stairs, packing whatever she couldn’t afford to leave. Where could she go? Madrazo’s? No, that slimy shit would use her distress as an excuse to worm more control over her. Then who? She didn’t know anyone that she trusted to look after her in Los Santos. She was alone, like always. _Get to safety now, consider your options later_ , Mads chided herself. She could stay in a discreet hostel or a motel somewhere, anywhere that didn’t take card - he’d trace that crap back to her immediately. There were probably plenty of dodgy establishments in the shittier ends of L.S she could stay in. Either way, Mads had to be on the move. She downed a few gulps of vodka for courage, dumping the bottle with the rest of her stuff in the passenger seat, before speeding out on the highway.


	4. Cornered Prey

Trevor slammed the drivers-side door shut with such force he could feel it reverberate through the car frame . Well, one of the reasons he’d chosen to drive that rust bucket he was in was because he knew it could take a few bumps. He drove off with a screeching of tires and burning rubber. _Shit shit shit_ , he thought it like a mantra, _fucking shitting Lester_. Who the fuck invited him to the party? If he hadn’t fucking ruined it Trevor could’ve made a fortune from that score. So what if the Chinese would shoot the fucking superweapon straight back at them? Trev was Canadian anyway, so not one to feel a rush of patriotism for the good ol’ U.S of A. _Land of opportunity my ballsack_ , he thought . He pulled his phone out and keyed in a number.  
 _This is Cletus. I got both hands on a gun right now so leave a message.  
_ “It’s me. Set something up, I'm on my way, I need something to shoot.” He let out an involuntary growl of frustration and made a u-turn. He ignored the horns and curses behind him as he floored his way out to Sandy Shores. 

When he arrived Cletus was waiting for him leaning against Trevor’s trailer. He was cast in ugly orange light and then into darkness as the Sandy Shores street lights struggled to stay lit.  
“Howdy Trevor, got your message. Willing to give this little business venture of ours a go?”  
“Yeah whatever, as long as I get to kill something. My trigger finger’s getting itchy.” Either the hard edge to Trevor’s voice or the danger emanating from his demeanour caused Cletus to pause.  
“Sure you’re alright there Trev?”  
“I’m fine, lets fucking go.” He shrugged at that and got in the truck, Cletus directing Trevor up Mount Chilead. They parked somewhere inconspicuous and travelled the rest of the way on foot. Cletus had experienced traversing the wilderness; Trevor lagging slightly behind as they climbed - not that he’d admit it. He brought the pair to a halt at a slight ledge that jutted out from the incline and propped his gun up with practiced ease, laying flat on his stomach and gesturing to Trevor to do the same.

“This one of my favourite spots for night-hunting, ‘ specially this time o’ month,” Cletus murmured . Trevor could kind of see why. The mountain beneath them had blanketed in pale moonlight; their elevation made it easy for them to see their prey between the trees .  
“When you’re ready, I think I see one by the water, to our left.” Cletus prompted and Trevor spied it through his scope. The elk swivelled it’s head this way and that, but didn’t sense the presence of predators. It stalked out of the treeline unafraid, dipping its head down to take a drink. _This must be your unlucky day,_ Trevor thought with a grin. He concentrated on his breathing as he lined up the scope with the heart. The shot rang through the air and the elk crumpled to the ground.  
“Awesome! Clean shot like that, I reckon we’ll get good money for the meat!” Cletus babbled. “Let's get a few more before we call it a night.”

The pair spent a good few hours taking out their prey. The task had required Trevor’s full concentration, leaving no capacity to stew over other events. As such, when he drove Cletus down the mountain to pick up their spoils, he was in a considerably better mood. He could even be feeling a little good, especially if Cletus’s estimates came through and they made a tidy few grand profit.  
“Are you staying in Sandy Shores? I figure you’ll get back to L.S. mighty late if you head out now,” Cletus had commented as he got out of the car on the mountainside.  
“Nah I better get back, got some stuff I need to get in order out there.”  
“Suit yourself. Glad you’re feeling better Trevor.”

Vespucci was unusually dead when he was parking up in the lot outside Floyd’s apartment. Even for the small hours of the morning, there was usually some kind of sirens or illegal activity going on. Hell, Trevor had come back at half three in the morning to interrupt a shootout once. Was it _his_ fault that one of their shots hit his car, meaning he had to mow down both sides with righteous fury? Absolutely not! He was about to go up the stairs and hit the sack when the distant sound of banging hit him. He would have dismissed it as general Vespucci night goings, but the sound wasn’t coming from the neighbourhood, but from the beach. Was someone robbing the pier? More important than that, why hadn’t he thought of doing that? That resolved it, Trevor was going to follow the noise and if there was action to be had he was getting involved. Criminals couldn’t go around robbing people in his backyard and not expect to deal with him for it.  
“Hey!” He stomped up the red brick towards the sound of the banging. As he got closer he could hear drunken shouting.  
“Jaaared! Jaaaaareeeed! Open the sop you shack of-” The voice slurred out of focus and hiccuped before the banging resumed. “Jarrrreed!!”

“If this is your idea of a quiet job I have to say I’m not impressed-” The words died in his throat as he caught sight of the aggressive drunkard. Bright red hair loose from the neat bun it was usually in, freckled skin flush from alcohol, but there was no doubt. Mads Grey; screamingly, obviously shitfaced. By the way her pupils dilated it was clear she’d reached for something stronger than the usual booze. Had he not been watching her so closely, he would have missed the glint of a shiv hidden in the top seams of her underwear. Even high and nearly naked the woman wasn’t daft enough to traverse Los Santos unarmed.

“The fuck are you doing here?” His question came out of legitimate confusion. The woman lived in a cushy place in Blaine County, what the fuck was she doing at - a quick glance at the sign revealed the shop was Smoke on the Water - at two am ?  
“Trevor Philerp… Philler… Trevor Philly … You! This is all -hic- because of you!” She let go of the shutter that she was using to steady herself and stumbled forward towards him. He caught hold of her forearms to steady her before she planted herself into his shoes and she looked up at him with accusing eyes. “You told Jared to ignore me, didn’t you!? You mother shitball piece of fucking asshatter-” She degenerated into many, many more curses before trying to kick him in the shins, but all she ended up doing was teetering off-balance, falling face-first into his torso with a resounding thump .  
“Uhuh sure, all my fault, now tell me what the fuck you’re doing.”  
“Shhhh... Don’t tell! I’m hiding… ‘sa secret…” She giggled into the fabric of his shirt but then stopped abruptly . “Oh... Ohhhh… I’m gonna throw up.”

Out of the many ways Trevor pictured this going, holding back the hair of the biggest fucking shrew he knew as she threw up in a bin was not high on the list .

“There there, better out than in - and I would know,” he murmured and took off his shirt to wipe her mouth with. Mads made to resume banging on the shutter of the shop but Trevor caught her wrist and pulled her back.  
“Sorry sweet cheeks, I don’t think you’ll be able to hide in there.”  
“Why not!?” She spoke with the same accusory tone but hidden underneath as something else. She was… hurt? Was that even possible with this lady?  
“Look it's nothing personal, it's real late is all. That Jared guy probably went home for the night.” He said, a softer tone than he had been using.  
“... Oh.” Mads looked back at the store as if only just noticing the shutter she’d been banging on for the past God knows how long. She slumped against it and dropped to the floor, hugging her knees she started to weep. “He’s… he’s not here. I’m alone.”

_Just ignore her Trevor_ , he thought. _Turn around and walk away, pretend you never even saw-_

“Alright, up you go little lady,” Trevor knelt down and hooked an arm under her knees lifting her with ease. She froze and for a moment he thought she'd struggle, but she quickly settled against his chest.  
“Where are we going?” She whispered.  
“I’m taking you someplace you can hide, so just be quiet okay?”  
“Mmm.”  
Alarms blared in his head telling him this was a mistake. It wasn’t too late, he did have some “friends” in the desert that would pay him good money for another body. Part of him baulked at the thought, had he not just told Mads he’d look after her? Surely , the rules of chivalry dictated he protect her from harm until such a time as she felt safe once more? And Trevor - well, he was the most chivalrous guy there was. In fact, anyone who had said that chivalry is dead owed Trevor a personal apology! His decision was what the honourable man would do. It had nothing to do with the fact that he had big development plans that depended on the woman he was carrying up the stairs into Floyd’s. He took her straight through to his room and set her down on the bed.

  
“N-no, I… I can’t stay here-” She rocked forwards almost launching herself off of it. “He’s coming for- you said I could hide-”  
“Hey calm down, it's fine. I’ll stay by the door, okay? He won’t get past me.” He clamped his arms around her from behind to hold her back.  
“It's not- I can’t- _where_ is Jared I-” She struggled in increasing desperation and accidentally smacked Trevor square in the nose . She was making it so much harder for him to want to help, and for a moment he had to wonder if he could leave her in the skip downstairs .  
“FLOOOYD! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE.” Floyd stumbled on his way out of his room and round to Trevor’s. His eyes widened at the sight of Trevor trying to grab a woman who was kicking and scrabbling away from him.  
“Sir I- I can’t be a part of- of whatever it is you’re-”  
“Shut the fuck up and get your blanket. You’re sleeping on the floor outside my room tonight.”  
“But-”  
“Will you fucking do as I tell you?” Trevor wrestled Mads onto her back and clambered onto her, knees weighing down her thighs, her wrists clamped to the mattress by his hands . Once in that position, Mads stopped struggling altogether, going completely compliant.

“Mads! Listen to me okay? I’m not gonna hurt you.” He tried to reason with her but she gave him a blank look of docility. On instinct Trevor let go, sitting up so he was on his knees above her, satisfied when he saw her awareness return. She pulled herself out from under him but made no more moves to try and escape. Interesting.  
“Now look here, my good friend Floyd is over there and he’s going to guard the door. I’ll be here on the bed to take out anyone who comes through the window. You’re safe now, you hear? You’re safe.” She watched Floyd settle on the floor outside the threshold of the bedroom then looked back to study Trevor blocking the window from her view .  
“I’m… safe…?”  
“You’re safe sugar. I promise.”

For the first time since he’d met the girl, Mads broke out into a smile. She wrapped her arms around Trevor and pulled him into a tight hug and buried her face in his chest. Trevor manoeuvred them to lay down on the bed and, after a brief moment of hesitation, wrapped his arms around her. He rested his chin on the top of her head, resting one of his legs on top of hers and tugging the duvet over the two of them. Trevor seemed to be a lighter sleeper than she was; he woke up many times by the random bumps of the night but she stayed softly sleep. He reached across the bed to wrap his arms around her as had shifted away from him in her sleep. He never would have pegged her for a snuggler with that pricklier than a fucking cactus personality of hers, and yet, she melted into his touch. She pressed her back into his torso and slipped her warm thighs around his so that they were spooning. She was resting her midriff on his right arm as he caressed her thigh with his left, occasionally thumbing her hip bone.

His mind drifted back to the things she’d said. She was scared ; obviously- but of what? The way she’d completely blanked when he held her down felt like a disturbing indication . _He’s coming for._.. Her words that he’d taken at face value while he was trying to get her to settle down came back to him. For what? For her? Was she hiding from someone? The implication made Trevor more uncomfortable than he’d like. After all, whatever else Mads Grey was - the words prude, shrewd and downright rude came to mind - a coward she was not. What kind of person terrified a woman who rubbed elbows with the most ruthless and repulsive bastards in the business ?


	5. Second Date

Mads woke to angry incessant beeping emanating from somewhere nearby. The sky was steadily lightening, telling her it was some point close to dawn. A man - Floyd, her brain supplemented - yawned and sat up in the doorway to the room she was in, going into the other room to shut off the alarm and hopping into the shower. It wasn’t long before a knock on the door made her stir.  
“I came to… who is _that_?”  
“Fuck off Wade!” Behind her a voice hissed, grabbing a hold of whatever was nearest and tossing it. It was of no use, even as the person retreated she was steadily coming around.  
“Mmm, what?” Her voice was rough with sleep and at first she didn’t notice her surroundings, but soon enough she felt it - the warmth of a body against hers, hands groping her chest and running over the fabric of her underwear, a suspicious hardness poking her lower back. She stiffened - where was she? And, a more pressing matter entirely, what had she ended up doing last night?

“Shit. How drunk was I?”  
“Totally hammered and teensy bit high. You were impressive, really.” The man’s voice was coloured with amusement as he nuzzled his face into her hair. Something clicked as her mind caught up and she placed where she’d heard the voice before.  
“And how is it I ended up in my smalls with you, Mr. Trevor Philips?” She couldn’t do anything but laugh at the irony - it seemed the universe had made a liar out of her.  
“So you remember how to say my name now?”  
“What are you- argh!” She sat up to rest against the headboard and made small massaging movements on her temple. Well, it wasn’t surprising she had the mother of all hangovers considering she drank enough alcohol to stock a nightclub - and that was before she bummed spliffs off a weirdo somewhere downtown. Bits and pieces of the night came back to her, including a series of collisions where she ended up totalling the Sabre in someone’s pool up near Pacific Bluffs.

“Oh fuck me,” She breathed.  
“Hmm… don’t tempt me.” He laughed. He was watching her with interest, unlike her he seemed to be wide awake but made no efforts to get up. “It’s damn early Mads, go back to sleep. That’s an order.”  
“An _order_?”  
“Yup.” The self important tone in which he spoke told her he was deliberately trying to wind her up.  
“I don’t remember ever giving you the right to impose orders on me, so forgive me if I don’t feel like complying.”  
“Of course you don’t, you were higher than a fucking jet when it happened. Sleep, now.” He was right, of course; her brain felt like it was exploding and her limbs were sore and heavy. Even if she wanted to, there was fairly little chance she’d physically be able to get up. Didn’t mean she was happy about it though. Her body was a traitor, she thought as she slid back under the covers facing Trevor. She allowed him to encircle her; they’d spent the entire night that way, no point acting coy now.  
“Good girl,” He patted her back gently as he intertwined their limbs and drew her close to his chest.

The second time she woke before him. It was early afternoon and the house felt entirely still. She slipped out of the bed and grabbed one of Trevor’s shirts and some clean sweats out of the cupboards and slung them on. Thinking back, didn’t she throw up on a shirt like this? The last part of the night was still a little bit fuzzy, she vaguely remembered being on Vespucci Beach in her underwear but not how she got there or what happened after. Stepping out of the bedroom and into the main part of the apartment made her cringe; if she needed more of a warning about the disaster she’d ended up in bed with, this was definitely it. The floor and walls were covered in a range of questionable stains and any kind of visible surface was filled with dirty takeout boxes and other kinds of trash. She walked as carefully as she could past the mounds of crap and went straight into the kitchenette.

The sight of the landline in the living room caused Mads to pause. With sheer force of will she picked up the landline, hesitating only a fraction before punching in a number.  
“You’ve reached Grey Studios, this is the operator service how can I help you?”  
“It’s Mads. Put me through to Patrick McReary - this is a work number so make sure it’s a secure line.”  
“Of course, Ms Grey.” It took the operator a couple of seconds to add the right safety regulations before the dial tone rang. Mads heard the line click and for a moment she thought he’d picked up, but soon realised she’d been sent to voicemail. _This is Patrick Mc_ _R_ _eary, I probably don't remember giving you my number or know who you_ _are_ _. Ladies I'm sorry it was a one night stand_ _.  
_ “Really Packie? Still the same old voicemail? It’s Mads. Umm, Frank called me, said you were out towards Los Santos and I should give you a holler since I’m here.” She laughed, but the humour was being quickly drained from it by the rest of the things she knew she had to say. She took a breath and tried to keep her voice as steady as possible as she continued.  
“I know Kate-” An involuntary hitch, her hand flew to her hip on instinct. “I don’t know how much, but I know she told you some things. I… I’m in a bit of trouble Packie. I need to speak to someone who knows-” Tears were forming but she fought them back - they held no use other than making her distress stark to prying eyes.  
“Anyway, I’m around and I’ll be waiting. Speak to you soon.” She clicked the handset back into the receiver and decided to get something to eat.

Mads managed to root out a clean glass and had filled it with milk. Her throat felt like it was on fire. She was in the process of downing it when the front door opened and young man waltzed in that she recognised instantly.  
“You!” She pointed an accusing finger. “You were there yesterday! You were watching me!”  
“I… I don’t know what you mean-”  
“ _Bullshit!”_ She came out from around the counter to yell at him directly. “You’re the guy from the cafe! The clown make up guy!”  
“I ain’t never been in a cafe before Miss.”  
“The fuck you guys yelling for?” Trevor walked out the bedroom with a yawn.  
“You!” Mads rounded to direct all her fury in his direction. “You had this freaky little gremlin following me around!”  
“Course I did, couldn’t have you running off on me now could I? But you weren’t supposed to be seen, Wade.” He walked past ignoring how smoke was positively pouring out of Mads’s ears and poured a shot of whiskey.  
“I thought she wouldn’t see me in the airport Trevor.”  
“She was where?” His hand stilled around the bottle. Wade’s eyes widened as he realised his mistake and he barrelled into Mads as an attempt to shield from the inevitable incoming storm.

“No, I- I-”  
“I- I- I- you _what?_ I told you to fucking call if she got anywhere closeto leaving, now what the fuck do you call going to the _fucking airport_?” Wade clung even tighter to her and bawled and without thinking Mads was wrapping her arms around him making shushing motions.  
“Get the fuck off her you little shit-” Trevor stomped up to the pair but Mads put herself in between them so Wade was out of reach.  
“Hey leave him be Trevor! I was only picking someone up, as if I’d go anywhere near home with you on my trail you crazy fuck!”  
“What, all of a sudden you’re best buds? You were just calling him a freak gimme a fucking break!”  
“He was following me around because of you! If anyone here is a freak its _you -_ you daft piece of shit!”  
“Oh _now_ I’m a piece of shit huh? Now I’m a freak? ‘Cause last night it was all ‘He’s gonna get me, oh Trevor please save me!’ but now you’re sober I’m not good enough for you, is that it?”  
“What the fuck? What is that supposed to mean?”  
“But that’s the way it always is isn’t it? Sure you’ll keep me around long as you think you need me but as soon as I’ve outlived my usefulness you drop me like a fucking brick and move onto the next guy! And what happens to us? Left to rot in a fucking state penitentiary, or to fucking fend for ourselves!”

Mads stared aghast at the fuming man. This was no longer about her - the point of their fight had been completely lost in the amalgam of hurt and fury she’d somehow managed to elicit.  
“Trevor it's not like that,” She tried, but he recoiled as if he’d been struck.  
“Forget it,” he mumbled as he stormed past her.  
“No Trevor wait-” The door to his bedroom slammed shut. With the promise of safety Wade shuffled out of the corner he’d been cowering in. Mads stared after Trevor wondering what she did to hurt him. She hadn’t meant to, but it was evident whatever he’d been expecting from her, she hadn’t managed to give it. At first she simply stood there at a loss for what to do - because what could she possibly do when she didn’t even understand what happened? - but after that she steeled herself. She wasn’t going to cause a problem and then not attempt to fix it.

When she walked into the room Trevor was sat on the bed with his back to her, facing the window he’d spent the night guarding.  
“Wade and I are going to get ice cream, if you’d like to join us.” She declared.  
“What makes you think I give a fuck about ice cream?” he replied bitterly.  
“Suit yourself. Though, I do conduct a lot of business on the pier. It’d be a shame if you missed a golden opportunity sitting in here sulking by yourself.” She left the room and gestured to Wade to stand by the door.  
“Okay see you later Trevor!” She called across the hall and moved to stand with Wade, but made no attempt to leave the apartment.  
“Why aren’t we-”  
“Shh, Wade!” She hushed him just in time to hear the mumbled ‘that’s not exactly fucking ice cream’ before Trevor burst out of his room still pulling on his boots. Mads was careful to keep from breaking into a smug smile.

Trevor wore a scowl for the entire trip which was making Mads question whether she should have invited him. They walked into the small restaurant on the pier and she ordered, a cherry waffle sundae with whipped cream and all the toppings they could possibly fit for Wade, a couple of scoops of vanilla for herself.  
“Do you want anything?”  
“Oh I don’t know, does this place have all the time I wasted looking after your fucking useless but impressively firm ass?”  
“I think you’re more of a salty caramel kind of person.” If Trevor understood the hidden insult he chose to look past it. They took a seat at an inside table near the back of the place where a wall partition gave them some sort of semblance of privacy.

“So where’s this golden business opportunity you promised me?”  
“Before we talk about anything else give me my knife back.”  
“You knew I lifted it?” He cocked his head giving a look that could almost pass as impressed.  
“Hah.” She snorted. “It’s been there since I was thirteen. I noticed.” He handed the flat blade over and Mads tucked back in its’ proper place in the top seam of her underwear with uncanny deftness.  
“Okay I’m not gonna lie that turned me on a little bit.”  
“You think that’s impressive you should see me use the thing. Back to business though. I’ll facilitate a deal for you, but I need your help with something first.”  
“Nice try, sugar. You still need to repay me for looking after you the whole night through.”  
“I remember enough of yesterday to know I never asked you to do that. While I appreciate you taking care of me, you did it of your own volition. Also, in terms of payment I’m pretty sure my body was adequate.”  
“How dare you suggest I was anything but a perfect gentleman!”  
“When I woke up this morning you were squeezing my tits, Trevor.”

He didn’t try to refute the claim, talking under his breath, something about being ‘offered forbidden fruit’ and ‘obviously gonna try it’. Whatever it was, Mads was glad he seemed to have calmed down from his earlier outburst and decided to eat the ice cream she paid for.  
“Look, it’s not a big favour. I need someone to help me get my stuff from the Paleto Bay house. That’s it. I was borrowing the place so I need to make sure I leave it spotless or my contact will be pissed. Pack up my stuff with me and afterwards I’ll fix you up with someone, something cross-borders if that’s what you fancy.” She thought he’d jump at the offer, but for some reason he sat back studying her intently.  
“What are you asking me for?”  
“I’m sorry?”  
“In my experience, when something is too good to be true it’s because someone’s fucking lying. Its’ not about the house, you could probably burn the fucker down and still talk your way out of it. So what is it you’re asking me for? ”

So he wasn’t going to be fooled by a dangling promise of money. He was smarter than she gave him credit for.  
“That’s the offer, Trevor. No one is forcing you to contract me, but if we’re gonna do business it’s gonna be on my terms. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve remembered where I left my stuff.” She finished the last of her ice cream and headed up to the pier car park. When it was clear no one was watching her she slipped into a nondescript sedan and drove off towards the northern edge of the city. Even off her face she hadn’t been stupid, at least she’d managed put her belongings in a motel room which she now needed to collect. The work stuff she wasn’t so worried about, she was always careful not to leave traces that could incriminate her or connect her to any of her clients. The reason she was driving in the oncoming lane to overtake the piss poor drivers of Los Santos was to prepare to deal with things entirely personal. Now the hangover was wearing off the warning in the voicemail was playing over in her head; a shitstorm was coming, and she needed to get out in front.


	6. More Friends, More Benefits.

Mads did her best to ignore the shrill giggling from underneath her but it was starting to grate on her nerves. She sat on the balcony outside of her motel room, fitted her slender legs through the bars and leaned on the low railing to enjoy a quick smoke. In the courtyard underneath, the giggling woman was hanging off the arm of some slick middle aged guy in a business suit. She understood it perfectly - massaging the ego of your john was hooker 101. The man pushed her against a wall and kissed her neck, hands roaming up and down her body. She wound the fingers of one hand into his dark hair and gently pried him back - good on her for not letting him get away with tasting the merch - and with the other she grabbed his hand to lead him upstairs. Mads watched as the light of the room diagonally across from hers lit up behind closed curtains. The woman seemed practiced; Mads hadn’t expected the man to re-emerge until after she was long gone. However just ten minutes later she spotted him reappear at the bottom of the staircase in the courtyard adjusting his tie. He must have felt her eyes on him because his pale blue eyes met her grey green ones.  
“Ah, good evening.” He cleared his throat in discomfort.  
“She was good, what happened?”  
“What?” If the man’s flush was any indication, he knew exactly what she was talking about.  
“The hooker.” Mads gestured at the room with the light still on above him.  
“That’s none of your damn business.”  
“Sucks to be you, buddy.”

The man made an exasperated splutter and stormed off towards the exit. Mads didn’t get his frustration, if he didn’t want to talk about it, why didn’t he ignore her? She stuck cigarette her butt into the little tray next to her and shuffled back a little to coax her legs out of the railings. In the room, she returned the ashtray and grabbed up her stuff. She was dressed in her most forgettable outfit, a loose tank with sporty three quarter shorts and a snapback cap. She slipped on her sneakers to complete the look and gave her keys back at the front desk. It had been a while since her drunken fiasco and the night had come back to her in its’ entirety. Mads was appalled at her behaviour; no matter how shaken there was no excuse for the disgusting weakness she’d displayed. The fact she actually asked that bastard Trevor Philips for help was the real kick in the teeth. What the hell was she thinking? Drunk, high, scared or even fucking crazy, that was plain pathetic. _What’s done is done_ , she sighed. All she could do was move forward and hope it didn’t affect her reputation too badly. Her priority was collecting her stuff and finding somewhere semi-permanent to stay a few days out from the end of the month.

Her eyes widened as she spotted a familiar face sat on the bonnet of a Banshee in the motel car park.  
“Wade??” She managed to choke the name out before the younger man closed the distance between them and swung his arms around her to pull her into an all encompassing embrace. Mads had somehow managed to get him to imprint on her like he was the five foot version of the fucking ugly duckling; the amount of times she’d found him anxiously waiting on her with baited breath she shouldn’t have been so surprised he was there. Well, she reasoned, he wasn’t doing any harm. It was kind of nice, having someone out here who liked her with no strings attached. She could indulge him a bit, right? That’s all it was - indulging _him_ , she decided with as much conviction as she could muster considering she was absent-mindedly rubbing his back the way one would burp an infant.

“You’re freezing, how long have you been waiting out here?” She let go to inspect him.  
“I thought we could go to the funfair together so I got here at nine… I been waiting for you to come out-”  
“Oh my God Wade, you’ve been here for six and a half hours!? Why didn’t you come upstairs dummy!”  
“Oh I woulda Mads, but they wouldn’t tell me your room number and they said if they caught me scaling the wall again they’d call the police, so…”  
“Never mind, I’ll just take you home.”  
“So no funfair…?” The look of obvious hurt in Wade’s face caused Mads to soften.  
“No we’ll go, but not today - it’s late now and I have a couple of errands to run. Don’t be sad, I promise we’ll go soon. I’ll even buy candy floss and balloons how does that sound?” Wade grinned and she found it was infectious; soon enough she had mirrored his big smile. God what the hell was wrong with her?

They settled into the sports car and Mads leaned over making sure Wade had buckled up.  
“Give me your phone, I’m gonna put my number in so you can call me next time.” He handed her a simple flip phone without complaint and she hesitated. Sure, she wanted Wade to be able to call her… but she could envision the possibility of her number being bullied from him and abused by a certain aggravating individual.  
“This phone number is a secret okay? You can’t tell anyone about it. _Especially_ Trevor.”  
“I thought you was his new ol’ Lady?” Mads winced at the question.  
“Why would you think that? You know what it doesn’t even matter, just listen. If he finds out you got this before him he’ll be pissed, right? I don’t want him to get mad at you. Please, keep it quiet.” His expression grew grave and it seemed he took her words in. She wasn’t exactly sure Wade would keep her confidence, but in her mind it was more important for her to look after the loyalty he seemed to have for her. She’d have to risk it. She keyed in her personal contact details and clicked the call button before saving the contacts in both phones.

The lights were on in the apartment indicating someone was home when Mads pulled up outside. She attempted to make a quick departure but Wade insisted she come inside and so reluctantly she made her way up the stairs.  
“I’m back!” Wade hollered into the apartment as he walked in.  
“Good I’ve ordered take out and it should-” Floyd halted as he caught sight of Mads. “Well hello, Miss Mads. Trevor’s out, but make yourself at home.” He was about to gesture at the sofa but considering how filthy it was elected to direct her towards Trevor’s room instead.  
“Floyd right? I’m not here for Trevor, in fact I’m not staying at all.”  
“Oh, right. Are y’sure? We’ve got food coming, you could have a bite to eat?” A harsh beep from the kitchen made him jolt and rush to fuss over some unhappy appliance. She couldn’t feel any deception or malice from the stout man; he really was inviting her to stay for free food. Come to think of it, wasn’t this the same man that slept on a hard floor instead of in his bed without complaint for the sake of her comfort? She didn’t understand why he was so kind to her, a complete stranger; she reasoned she owed him at least a show of gratitude.

“Floyd? Come here.”  
“Sure, what’s-” She took a hold of his face and silenced him with her lips, pressed aggressively against his. Floyd’s mouth fell open in shock and she wasted no time taking advantage of the confusion to slip her tongue into his mouth. It must have stirred some kind of instinct in him as she felt his arms clamp tightly around her waist bringing her in. She was pleased by the tentative brush of Floyd’s tongue against her bottom lip and she gently coaxed him to take the kiss deeper. Floyd stumbled back, pulling her with him to bump up against the counter behind him for balance. Somewhere behind the pair she heard a horrified gasp, presumably from Wade. She was tempted to ignore it, but the voice of reason rang through her head telling her it was a bad idea. Reluctantly, she let go.

“That was- wow, uhh… Oh my giddy Lord.”  
“That was a thank you, for looking after me the other night.”  
“Sure… does you always use th-” His breath hitched in his throat but he pushed through it. “ _that_ …? For thanking people?”  
“I don’t have much else to give.” She shrugged. “I’m off - errands to run.”  
“I’ll help!” Floyd blurted as she reached for the door. Mads shot him a questioning look and he flinched, prompting him to carefully choose his next words. “I heard Trevor talking about your situation, how you need to be getting some of your stuff? Right now he’s busy doing, well God knows what he’s doing ‘cause I don’t wanna, but you still need someone so I thought maybe I… I could help.”  
“I’m sorry Floyd, I don’t think you could. Thank you, though. It means a lot to me that you offered.” She flashed him a gentle smile and gave Wade a quick squeeze on her way out.

On reflection, it was probably for the best she’d allowed Wade to be drag her into the apartment, because it meant Mads buzzed with energy as she embarked on the long journey out of the city. Were all normal, non-fucked up people as kind as Floyd? Or was that a trait specific to him? She’d been naive to ask someone to watch her back, and dragging someone like Floyd into her mess was the last thing she would ever want. It wasn’t like she was unused to taking care of business on her own. Either way, what a strange man he was. She felt good enough to tune into her favourite radio station and open the top of the Banshee and blasted it at full volume all the way up the highway. She held onto the warmth she felt as she pulled up into the Paleto Bay house and switched the engine off.

Mads entered the place with her pistol ready to fire. It felt a lot creepier than when she’d last been there. The house still held the marks of her frantic escape - from unwashed dishes in the sink to upturned chairs. Surprisingly eerie, but thankfully empty. Mads slotted the gun back in its holster on her hip but left the safety off. She had to be thorough; it was only a matter of time before the location was compromised - if it hadn’t been already. Her trail _had_ to go dead from there. She decided to work her way down from the top of the house, clearing every room on the way to the front door. She’d just about finished wiping down the en suite when she heard the stumbling footsteps coming up the stairs. Blood ran ice cold in her veins; she’d locked the door, right? The front door yes, but it occurred to her that she hadn’t thought to check the back.

The pistol was immediately in her hand and she let off a warning shot across the landing. The bullet hit its mark - a headshot on the shadow coming up the stairs - causing the intruder to stop abruptly.  
“If you don’t want me to put a bullet in your actual skull I suggest you fuck off right now.”  
“Holy shit woman, and they call _me_ crazy?”  
“ _Trevor_?”  
“Who the fuck else??”  
“I thought you weren’t coming,” She sighed as he appeared at the top of the stairs dressed in a navy boiler suit of all things. “God I almost killed - you didn’t think to say it was you?”  
“Well fuck, sorry for not realising you were expecting company! I guess I was supposed to know you’re in a shoot-now-ask-later mood through fucking osmosis?”  
“That’s not what I meant. Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.”  
“ _I_ scared _you?”  
_ “Give it a rest. If I wanted to shoot you I’d have done it the first time you snuck up on me.”

Trevor walked in the room allowing her to inspect him properly. Mads was certain his hair was always at the peak of its unruliness, so she was surprised to see it was somehow even wilder than usual. There were obvious dried splotches of blood all over the overalls, little of it his own. The signs added up to a firefight, and a serious one at that. Her instincts screamed at her to train her gun back at his head, the wild look in his eyes an invitation to do so.  
“Take that off.”  
“Ooh, a striptease? Usually it’d cost you, but I’m in a good mood so it’s on the house,” His smile turned positively feral as his fingers worked at the buttons of his overalls. He peeled the top half off without so much as a wince as the fabric unstuck from a wound on his chest. She spied it on his chest as the white undershirt was shimmied off leaving his torso bare. Luckily, it was just a graze. Mads had experienced patching that sort of thing up on herself; anything more serious and she would need a good sawbones.

“Sit. You’ll need help dressing that.”  
“You could’ve at least waited till I got my dick out,” Trevor pouted as his hands stilled at his waist. He slumped down onto the edge of the bed as Mads fished through her boxes for the first aid kit. He moved back a little to allow her to clamber into his lap, eyes focused on his right clavicle. The bleeding had already stopped, so Mads used a rag dipped in disinfected water to clean the wound. She couldn’t help but think of how strange it was - the graze pattern arched from mid-pectoral up to the collarbone. The only way he could have been injured like that would be if the person who’d shot him was somehow underneath him. What the hell had he been doing? _Forget about it_ , Mads thought. The less she knew the safer she was. Trevor’s business was nothing to do with her either way. Trevor was watching her intently, grunting with discomfort as she applied a little more pressure to dry the area.

“If I knew you’d come on to me like this I’d have got someone to shoot me in the chest weeks back.” Mads responded with a raised eyebrow and significant increase in pressure. “Alright, alright! Just lightening the mood, fuck!”  
“You’ll need to get this checked in two days, if it hasn’t started healing its infected,” She applied a sterile pad to cover the wound with medical tape to secure it into a makeshift island dressing.  
“Sure thing, doc.” She shifted to get up but his arms snaked their way around her waist and held her against him.  
“So. You, me, this bed… we could make some magic.”  
“You think you could get your dick out before I kick your ass?”  
“Don’t act tough, I know you like it when I hold you,” He burrowed his face in her bosom and inhaled deeply, slipping his hands under her tank to stroke her back.  
“I don’t understand. Why do you want this so bad? You don’t even like me.”  
“Do I need to like you to fuck you?” He snorted, nimble fingers working to unhook her bra. “I’m not asking for your hand in marriage lady, just looking for a good time.”  
“No strings?”  
“Right, you’re getting it. No strings - only fucking like horses.”  
“Jesus.”

Mads considered it. It wasn’t a bad offer - she’d definitely agreed to worse. She didn’t have much by ways of inhibitions when it came to choosing bedfellows. The problem was this one in particular was a real pain in the ass. He may have said no strings, but instinct told her when it mattered Trevor couldn’t separate professional from personal as well as she needed him to.  
“You’re sure its not gonna come back to bite me?”  
“For fucks sake, if you don’t want to then say so and I’ll find a fucking hooker. I’m starting to think this isn’t even worth it.” Mads laughed bitterly at the irony. Well, why not? She’d mess around with him. Maybe not straight away though, she did have some class, after all.  
“I don’t fuck until the third date.” Mads escaped his grasp with practised ease and smoothed down her clothing. A confused look crossed his face but it was gone as soon as it appeared.  
“Well what now sweet cheeks?” His voice oozed with the confidence of an annoying self righteous prick.  
“Well you can start with fetching my bullet out of the fucking wall.”


End file.
